The Borrower And The Detective - Pocket John
by Groovelikeabeaver
Summary: John Watson, a borrower living at 221B Baker Street, has his whole life turned around when he encounters an odd human called Sherlock Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

John winced slightly at the sound of clattering Petri dishes and Sherlock's swearing. The human had been inside the flat for two whole days now, with his behaviour becoming more and more irate. Irate enough to use his stash of cigarettes, and John knew he only did that when he was desperate for a case. A soft gurgling noise interrupted the borrower's thoughts. John looked down at his stomach and sighed. He needed to re-stock his supplies, but he could hardly do that with Sherlock in the flat. 221B had been such a quiet place to live, and borrowing had been easy until Sherlock moved in. He'd simply sneak downstairs whenever Mrs Hudson went out for bingo, and managed to grab enough supply for a solid week if he used it wisely. And while he was still cautious, he was able to stroll the flat whenever he wanted to stretch his legs. Now Sherlock was in the picture, John could only just muster enough courage to leave the walls. The man was disconcertingly sharp, and of all the humans John could be spotted by, Sherlock was one of the worst. The human seemed to lack the sentiment they usually had and loved to experiment, a bad combination for a borrower that was caught out. John certainly didn't want to end up diced and stored in some of the Petri dishes Sherlock had just spilt. And yet the borrower hadn't simply moved downstairs with the landlady, Mrs Hudson. He didn't like to admit it, but Sherlock fascinated him. The human may have been dangerous, but he was almost beautiful to watch in a bizarre sense. All his odd habits, playing the violin at odd hours, going without food for days, even shooting walls, they were fascinating. Sherlock had made his life much more exciting, right from the day that he moved in.

John nudged his ear against the wall and listened hard. He immediately recognised Mrs Hudson's signature shoes clacking against the wood, but there was someone else with her. He had a deep voice that vibrated all through the walls no matter how quietly he spoke. It was hard to make out exactly what they were saying, but John would've been surprised if the topic was not renting the flat. He decided to risk getting a glimpse of the newcomer from under the fridge. If someone was moving into the flat it would be best to know what kind of person they were, so he could prepare himself. John scrambled through each passage until he came to the opening under the fridge, only just in time.

"All right, that should be everything then. I'll move in tomorrow." The man concluded as he swept out of the kitchen. John noted he had a medium height and a very particular gait. Ice blue eyes that radiated intelligence were framed in his pale face. The man seemed... eccentric.

"Oh Sherlock," Mrs Hudson began. Ah, so John had a name now. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you after all this time. I don't like it when you get involved in all that nonsense abroad."

"Mmm yes." Sherlock muttered as he left the flat, with Mrs Hudson continuing to talk as she followed him.

As soon as John heard the flat door shut he clambered out from under the fridge and began to brush the dust off of himself. Right, he needed to get to work preparing himself. The flat had always been empty so he had fashioned a system of ropes and bridges to help him get around. How both Mrs Hudson and Sherlock hadn't noticed them was anyone's guess. Really he ought to be more careful. The borrower got to work dismantling them. Next he decided to restock his supplies, just in case Sherlock decided to spend a lot of time indoors. After that, it was only a matter of time before he'd begin investing his new unknowing flatmate's personality.

The test tube vibrated slightly as John placed his hand against its smooth surface. Most of his new flatmates belongings seemed to be science equipment. He'd heard from his own makeshift flat in the walls as Sherlock begin to arrange all of the things he owned in his new home, but halfway through the man had got a call on his phone. The call seemed to be about some kind of detective case and an exciting one at that, because Sherlock tore out of the flat at breakneck speed, coat flapping behind him. John had of course taken the opportunity to study up on his flat mate. And so he was now living with a detective – which was a bit worrying. The man would be smart, and what's more well acquainted with noticing clues. John knew he'd have to watch his step from now on.

A few days went by and John decided to do a bit of spying on Sherlock. He was extremely curious. From the man's conversations, it seemed he wasn't just any old detective. He was apparently the only "Consulting detective" in the world. It was a career that he made up, and it meant that whenever Scotland Yard was "Clueless" as he put it, they came to him. Certainly, Sherlock was clearly quite the show off. However, John knew that to be fair, he certainly had reason to be. The human's talents were amazing, bluntly put.

John had quickly decided that Sherlock's knowledge and his ability to deduce things were probably the most impressive qualities he had. He often watched Sherlock work with his science equipment, but only when he knew the human was fully distracted by his microscopes and Bunsen burners. The human seemed to just leave his equipment scattered across the flat, with no regards for how it looked. John found it rather interesting how completely entranced he could sometimes get, usually when he was using an experiment to crack a case, theories and facts coursing through his head. The borrower quickly discovered that Sherlock's experiments were rather... gruesome. He ended up watching Sherlock toy with severed thumbs; strip flesh from bones by using acid, John even saw eyeballs get microwaved. Why Sherlock would need or even want to know the results John had no idea. He must certainly work on very violent cases. It was almost frightening watch Sherlock handle pieces of dead human so casually. And yet, the rapid way his mind recorded all the information, his vast knowledge, it had an odd charm. John knew his interest was completely illogical, maybe even dangerous, but he couldn't help marvel at his flatmate.

But science and being a detective were not Sherlock's only talents. John recalled the first time he heard Sherlock play the violin. His head had perked up and soft sounds fluttered into the walls. Ah, yes, John thought, that would be the violin he'd seen tucked away in the corner on the day Sherlock moved in. John was surprised someone who seemed so focused on puzzles and was so impatient had been able to master the violin. Regardless, Sherlock sounded amazing, and the borrower certainly wanted to actually see him whilst he was playing. So with that he ran down the passages, whilst still making sure he was deathly quiet, until he found one that lead out onto the mantel piece. With bated breath John stuck his little head out from the wall to see Sherlock standing in the middle of the room, pacing as he played. The detective dipped and bowed with each note, the music flowing through his body, his mind completely focused on the song. It was nice too see Sherlock behave with a bit more... heart for once. John almost felt bad watching him play, like he was witnessing something too personal. But again, he couldn't help himself. It was too interesting not to watch.

Sherlock was also full of surprises. Like the incident with the wall. John had been peacefully sleeping when he was awoken by painfully loud pangs echoing all through the walls. What the hell was going on? He struggled out of his makeshift covers and stood on his heels, alert. The jumped as the blasts sounded again, followed by Sherlock's booming voice.

"Bored! Bored! Bored!"John was shocked at Sherlock's complaints. Almost angry at them. The man was shooting a wall at 2AM merely because he was _bored_? Was he mad? Yes, Sherlock Holmes was obviously mad. All he seemed to care about were cases, things to keep him occupied. He was almost like a machine sometimes. Still, John almost pitied him. Soft thudding sounds would fill the flat as he paced, like he was _pained _by his boredom. In any case, John decided to move his main living chambers to the Kitchen walls. Being shot didn't exactly sound particularly fun.

John quickly noted that Sherlock's sleep patterns and eating habits were not healthy. If he was on a case or simply interested in something, he would go days and days without sleep. And he hardly ate, managing at most one meal every two days. How he was able to be so awake and constantly run around solving cases John had no idea.

The borrower also noted that most of his relationships with others seemed... strained or were non-existent. He seemed to have a close relationship with Mrs Hudson, and certainly he respected her, although at times her choice of conversation topic bored him. Then there was Sherlock's brother, Mycroft. Sherlock certainly didn't seem to care much for him. John didn't manage to catch a glimpse of the detective's big brother when he visited, but he could infer enough from Mycroft's voice. He'd entered 221B to ask for Sherlock's help with an investigation, putting an emphasis on how it was important for the government. And Sherlock had given him a mouthful of abuse in response, refusing to answer any of his brother's calls once Mycroft left. Eventually Sherlock had relented and helped Mycroft though, which seemed like it was a rarity for him.

Apart from a gray haired man named Lestrade, it didn't look like Sherlock was on good terms with any of his colleagues. John managed to witness some of them when they decided to perform a drugs bust in the flat. He'd startled when he heard a whole slew of men and women come clambering up the stairs to Sherlock's flat. After the initial surprise he scrambled over to one of the bullet holes Sherlock created and peeked out carefully. It didn't take him long to figure out they were searching Sherlock's flat for drugs. John was surprised for the second time that day. Sherlock had a history with substance abuse? The borrower knew he was fond of cigarettes, but he had no idea Sherlock had a history with other substances. Still, the more John thought about it the more it made sense, considering Sherlock disregarded most laws and got bored so easily. The way Sherlock's co-workers talked about him and they searched the flat gave John the impression that they were not particularly fond of the detective. Most of them seemed only interested in seeing what Sherlock's flat was like. John wasn't surprised to hear Sherlock's frustration once he found them in the flat. A few of them he outright called idiots, and one woman seemed to brand him with the label freak in response. Other than those people, Sherlock never seemed to go out with others or even take interest in them. He seemed to be content with only giving the odd word to the skull he left on the mantle every now and then.

John was relieved when Sherlock finally got a call about a case. Finally, he thought, now maybe I can actually eat. As soon as John heard the sound of Sherlock clattering down the stairs fade into silence he pulled on his borrowing gear and set out to work. First he started in the kitchen, using his harness and grappling hook to scale the counters and shelves. There was always very little food stored in the flat, so John always took a while when managing to find enough different foods to ensure he got a balanced diet. Once his bag was brimming with slightly stale bread and cheese John collected some water from a small pool left in the sink. Although he had managed to adapt to obtaining most of his fluids via food since Sherlock moved in, he still always tried to get as much water possible. Despite the meagre pantry and how sweaty all the exercise had made John, finally leaving the walls had put him in a very pleasant mood. It was nice to be in a more open space with sunlight beaming through the windows. The borrower decided to check the living room. Maybe he'd treat himself to something Sherlock had left lying around, like a new blanket for his bed seeing as his current one had gotten rather tattered. With a merry little jump John used some string to slide down from the counter and onto the kitchen floor. He began to stroll out of the kitchen and into the living room, eyes scanning the floor and furniture around him. Books and papers were strewn everywhere and a day old cup of tea had been left out. John looked up through the window to see the sky coated in gray clouds; the sun's light trying to blaze through them. It was nice to see the sunlight for once. After a few minutes of starring, John returned to searching for good fabrics. He was just noting how Sherlock really needed to dust more when the floorboards behind him groaned. The borrower froze in shock as a few more creaking noises followed. He felt his heart drop down into his stomach as a huge shadow engulfed him. Oh my god, he thought, please god don't let that be Sherlock, please tell me I'm just imaging this. Slowly, John began to turn his body, to face whatever had made the shadow which now coated his frame.


	2. Chapter 2

John almost collapsed when he turned around to find the giant figure stood behind him. The borrower was suddenly bombarded with a tower of giant curls, pale skin and dark fabrics. And to make matters worse, they were focused directly on him. He'd been _seen. _Sherlock had seen him. Why didn't he hear Sherlock until it was too late? Why was he even back in the flat so soon? Usually when he went to solve a case he was gone for ages! How had John let this happen? Everything had been going brilliantly until now, Sherlock hadn't even noticed anything he'd taken going missing, and all of a sudden John's life may as well be over. He had made the worst possible mistake a member of his kind could make.

It seemed to just be a scramble of events rather than an actual thing that happened to John in the next few seconds. Immediately his flight instincts kicked in. He somehow managed to tear his eyes away from Sherlock's bewildered face and bolted towards one of the passageways near the fridge, praying he would get there in time. If luck was on his side, Sherlock's disbelief would slow his response. Then John could simply pack the necessary essentials and tear out of Baker Street, far far away from all this madness. However, the little borrower never made it that far because he was suddenly covered by a swirl of glass walls that sealed his fate with a loud clink. Sherlock had crouched down and trapped him under an empty glass beaker that had been slung on the coffee table. It was all over now. John tried to fight back against the blind fear that had begun to completely override most his attempts to think, to rationalise the situation. What should he do? Stay silent, and humour Sherlock, or just make a break for it at the first opportunity? He was desperate to try escaping his sudden cage but deep down he knew he would simply get caught again. Besides, he didn't want to anger the human. After all, it was Sherlock who had total control now. John decided to just wait it out and see what Sherlock decided to do. It was all he could do at this point.

Sherlock fell onto his knees to get a proper look at his captive. John felt his body break out into a cold sweat as his eyes locked with Sherlock's own blue orbs looming above him, the humans face curved and distorted by the glass. Time seemed to slow down in that single moment. His senses heightened, with the thrum of his own heart filling his head. The borrower's entire body was trembling violently, as he was now close to hyperventilating. He felt his legs crumple underneath him, no longer able to hold him upright as fear drowned out the rest of his thoughts. He was going to die. There was no way he'd make it out of this encounter alive. And he was going to die a terrifying death, at the hands of Sherlock Holmes. After an awkward staring match that felt like an eternity, when really it was merely a few seconds, Sherlock made a move. John stiffened and watched as a huge out stretched hand reached forwards, fingers like tree trunks, and placed itself onto the top of the beaker. John had a moment of disbelief as the glass surrounding him was peeled from the floor by Sherlock. But he did not let himself flood with relief or try to run away. Sherlock was watching him now. He was still completely at the giant's mercy.

It took John a moment to realise that Sherlock was talking to him.

"Can you speak?" He murmured out in his deep, purring voice.

John stood up, shaky and stumbling as he did so, and replied.

"Y-yes." He stammered out.

John saw a slight twitch of emotion cross Sherlock's face. Whether it was disbelief, interest, or delight John didn't know. But Sherlock's face quickly turned back to its usual detached demeanour. The borrower flinched a bit as Sherlock reached out for the beaker again and held it out to John, the opening right in front of him.

"Would you mind climbing inside this for me? I would like to continue our conversation, but perhaps off the floor. I promise I won't hurt you."

John fought back a whimper. He was being asked to trap himself. But he knew he had no choice. It was better to comply with Sherlock's request than to be forced to obey. He placed his hands on the cool beakers edges and clambered into the glass container, sliding down to the bottom. John held his breath as he began to feel Sherlock elevate him upwards. He felt his insides twist with nausea as he watched the carpet slip away from underneath him, until he was at a spine shattering height. The borrowers nausea only worsened as Sherlock began to walk into the living room, holding the beaker in front of him. Each stride made John slide against the glass ever so slightly, increasing his nerves. It was rather odd for John to be able to see everything so high up and from the middle of the room. Usually, he rarely got high up and only on the counters or the mantel piece, when he was close to the walls. But for the first time he could see everything from the middle of the room, and from what's more from a bird's eye view point. If he hadn't been so terrified, he may have even enjoyed it. Eventually Sherlock reached the mantel piece and held out the beaker, turning it slightly so John could climb out more easily. John turned his head to glance at Sherlock, who gave a slight nod and seemed to attempt a smile. So the borrower climbed out of the beaker and spilled onto the mantel piece, skirting away from the edge, and from Sherlock, as quickly as possible.

John was still struggling to deal with being so close to a human, to something so _big,_ and having those distant, ice cold eyes focused completely on him. They seemed to be mentally picking John apart, collecting all the facts they could about him. So he stayed sitting down, as to avoid simply crumpling over for a second time. Sherlock pursed his lips slightly, as if thinking very hard. John was almost irritated by how little affect the situation was having on the human. To him, finding John was probably just another event to quench his boredom, just a game.

"What exactly are you? You seem to be identical to a human being, but simply much smaller. But the human body isn't supposed to function at such as small size. Nor should be able to produce sounds as low pitched or loudly as you did." Sherlock then let his excitement get the better of him "Oh this is the best case I've ever come across! It's fantastic! You have no idea how fascinating you are!"

John was slightly startled by Sherlock's little bout of excitement, the man holding back the urge to bound up and down. It was rather unlike him. The borrower just stared back, dumbfounded. He didn't like where this conversation was headed. He was fascinating? More specifically, his body was fascinating? Oh, oh no. John decided to try keeping Sherlock as entertained as possible with conversation. Maybe he was at a high risk of being dissected, but at least he could try keep the human talking until he could get away? It was his best shot.

"Would you perhaps give me your name? If you have one, that is." Sherlock queried, leaning in ever so slightly.

John fought down the urge to move away and spluttered out.

"M-My name is John. J-John Watson."

"Well, I suspect you already know this, but my name is Sherlock Holmes. Pleased to meet your acquaintance." Sherlock gave a slight nod, as if to confirm that they were now acquaintances.

This gave John a tiny spark of hope. Maybe Sherlock wouldn't hurt him? But then again, maybe Sherlock simply wanted John to be easy to cooperate with before he got to experimenting. John knew he was much harder to predict than other humans.

"Are you wondering if I'm going to kill you?" Sherlock questioned.

John jumped slightly at this. Damn, was he really so easy to read?

"I- well, I, I mean,-" John began

Sherlock cut him of "Oh no no no, I understand. You're used to avoiding predators and adapted to hiding from humans at all costs. A fight or flight response is standard."

There was an awkward pause.

"Regardless, I have no intention of hurting you. Although I would like to – examine you a bit more, I'll make sure no harm will come to you."

"R-really?" John spluttered. He felt a slight wave of relief. Although he didn't fully believe Sherlock, at least it was much more likely that he wasn't going to be hurt by the human.

"Hm? Yes, really. I must say, although you're so different in size and life style, your behaviour is remarkably similar to a humans. Thereby it follows that it is just as easy to predict. Shame."

John almost forgot his fear in that moment. He was intrigued.

"How so?" He asked.

"Well, everything about you I can simply infer by looking. You've recently raided the pantry judging by what you're wearing, you're formulating as many plans to escape as possible, most likely leaning towards the hole in the mantel piece located to your left and you're living alone in this flat judging by the quality of your haircut. It's terribly shabby at the back"

John was silenced for a good moment. Eventually he realised he'd been holding his breath and gasped for air "Amazing" He breathed "That was amazing."

"You think so?" Sherlock murmured, cocking his head at John ever so slightly, his eyes glinting.

"Y-yes. The way you can just figure so many things out from someone's appearance. It's truly amazing." John hoped his flattery would perhaps increase his chances of survival. But what he said was true, he really did find Sherlock's deductions brilliant, despite the terror and instinct coursing through him.

"Hmm... odd that you think it is amazing. Between you and me, most people tend to tell me to piss off..." Sherlock chuckled slightly.

John smiled slightly in reply, glad to have broken through Sherlock's emotionless state a bit.

"Would you mind if I perhaps, examined you a bit more?" Sherlock asked.

Oh no, John thought, things were going sour again.

"What d-do you mean by that?" John replied, unable to hide the nerves in his voice.

"Nothing too extreme. And no harm would come to you what so ever. I was just hoping to maybe measure your height, that sort of thing." Sherlock explained.

John swallowed. He felt like he couldn't say no to Sherlock's request. And the human had promised not to hurt him...

"All-all right" John stammered.

#########

Hi guys! So this is my fic so far. I tried to spell check but sorry for any errors, I'm not so great with spelling and things but I try ^^'.

Anyway, I've always adored pocket John - it's so cute! So I finally got round to writing a fic for it.

I'm not sure when I'll get the third chapter out - there's a small chance I won't even do it. Blame my tumblr addiction. Regardless, I'll try but expect to wait a while.

And finally, any criticisms, comments, and faves are very much welcome :D!


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